See Spot Run
by poestheblackcat
Summary: "McDonald Boys" verse, post-"Sky's Gonna Open." De-aged Eliot wants a dog. Eliot gets a dog. Dog makes a mess. Lindsey sees red. Dog licks Lindsey. The end. Almost. Someone breaks a chair. And gets dog kisses. Then it's the end. Now with an extended scene.
1. See Spot Run

Summary: "McDonald Boys" verse, post-"Sky's Gonna Open." De-aged Eliot wants a dog. Eliot gets a dog. Dog makes a mess. Lindsey sees red. Dog licks Lindsey. The end. Almost. Someone breaks a chair. And gets dog kisses. Then it's the end.

Title plays homage to the _Dick and Jane_ books popular in the mid-twentieth century.

Bprice wanted Eliot to have a dog (she suggested different kinds, but this is what I saw in my head). Wee!Eliot now has a dog. While Eliot may not speak on command, it sure looks like Poesie writes when commanded.

This takes place around the last chapter of "Basic Training."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**See Spot Run**

Lindsey looks down at the…_creature_ and scowls.

"What the hell is that?"

Eliot grins, showing off how his missing top front tooth has finally grown in. He's lost a bottom tooth, however, so there's another adorable gap in his bright smile, and boy, does he know it.

"He's Bandit!" he exclaims, and hugs the dalmatian around its spotted neck.

The half-grown dog licks his face, eliciting a pleased giggle from the boy, and looks up expectantly at Lindsey with intelligent brown eyes, begging to be taken in and adopted and loved forever and ever and ever because he will love and be loyal to Master and Smells-A-Lot-Like-Master forever and ever and ever. The tail wags, thumping rapidly on the floor in a syncopated rhythm, showing his eagerness to please.

"No."

The smile on Eliot's face slides down into a pout. "But- "

"No 'buts,'" Lindsey says firmly. "And no dogs."

Eliot's bottom lip pushes out. "But he's just like us!" he exclaims.

Lindsey looks pointedly around his apartment. It's a mess; mud tracked everywhere imaginable, including on the walls and the ceiling (how in the world…?), chairs and lamps tipped over, knickknacks spilled onto the floor, the carpet bunched up where the furniture has shifted - It's a big, huge, doggy mess. He is never, _ever_ leaving Eliot alone in the apartment again, not even for a minute, no matter how much he insists that he's a friggin' adult, goddamn it!

He crosses his arms and looks down sternly at the two mud-streaked culprits. "Is he? And on exactly what argument are you basing that claim?"

Eliot immediately looks up and to the left. LIAR. "He's white with black spots! Just like us!" he exclaims, trying to cover it up.

"Mm-hm," Lindsey says mildly, "Only when _someone_ has been jumping around in mud puddles with his new canine friend."

Eliot heaves an immense sigh. "Linnnnyyyyyyy!" he says, drawing the name out into at least five syllables, "It's a meta- meta- meta-foggy-thingy."

"No," Lindsey says. "No dogs."

Bending down, he whistles and waves his hand under the dog's nose. "Come on, boy." The dog trots forward reluctantly, but stops completely when Eliot clings onto its neck.

Lindsey sighs. "Eliot. We can't have a dog. Who's gonna take care of him? Huh? We're out all day and travel all the time."

"I will," Eliot says desperately, "I will. I can take care of him, Linny. I can."

Lindsey stands firm. "We can't have a dog, Eliot," he insists. He is a Strong Authority Figure. He is.

That's when Eliot pulls out the big guns.

Without even a glance at each other, Eliot and the dog both simultaneously turn on the puppy eyes, complete with crocodile tears.

Lindsey's eyes widen. "No," he says, just barely restraining himself from backing up, "No. Don't- "

The tearfulness and size of the eyes go up a notch.

"N-no."

Another notch. The dog throws in Sad Ears and a high-pitched whine.

"I- We- You- " stammers Lindsey.

Level Extremely Cute And Adorable And Don't Even _Try_ To Resist, You Big, Huge Softie.

"It has freckles. I hate freckles," he whines with a pout of his own.

Eliot huffs, back to his usual self. "You have freckles. I have freckles. What's wrong with freckles? 'Sides, they're spots, not freckles."

Lindsey scowls, not quite admitting defeat. "What kind of a name is Bandit, anyhow?"

"It's a good name. It's a thief name. What's wrong with it?" Eliot asks with a scowl that would be identical to his brother's, had he been thirty-one years older, or conversely, if Lindsey had been seven years old.

"It's a stupid name," Lindsey says, but his heart isn't really in it.

A dog wouldn't be _so_ bad. Okay, the barking, the messes, yeah, those would probably be a pain, but it would be good for Eliot. He was so used to taking care of himself and Lindsey before, and more recently, the team, that now, he's got to be feeling pretty lost without anyone to protect (and fuss over, depending on the situation).

A dog would be pretty damn perfect. He'd be able to take care of someone who'd lavish affection right back at him. Yeah. That could be good. And the dog would be loyal to Eliot and protect him when Lindsey can't be there to do it (and he knows that there may come a time when that will happen), so it can't hurt to be prepared for that.

Yeah. A dog might be good.

"It's his name," Eliot says (not smugly, even though he knows _exactly_ what's going on in Lindsey's mind), "His name is Bandit."

Lindsey makes a face. "Why did you name him that? It's stupid." Okay, not really. It's cute.

And then Eliot says, "Because he stole your burrito." And grins.

Not cute.

Lindsey stills and his nostrils flare. "He what? Out of the freezer? The _dog_ stole _my_ burrito out of the _freezer_? How in the world did he even reach up there?" He points at the combination freezer-refrigerator in the kitchen. "_You _can't even reach up there without standin' on a goddamned chair."

There's a Cheshire Cat grin on Eliot's face. "See?" he says proudly, "He's a thief. Just like us."

Lindsey sputters. "You- If you want a dog, _you_ are going to take care of it. That means feeding it, bathing it, taking it for walks, picking up its messes," he says, ticking them off on his fingers, and automatically going into lawyer mode by default, "(including, but not limited to: excrement, urine, dirt, toys, food, and animals brought in from outside [alive, dead, undead, and otherwise]), fixing any damage to personal property, paying for damage done to personal property out of your own accounts, paying for anything that the dog needs (including, but not limited to: dog food, treats, toys, dog bed, trips to the vet, shots, neutering, collar, and leash), and- and taking responsibility for him and his actions."

He finishes up with, "And that means you're going to start by paying for that burrito and cleaning the mud off of _my_ walls, ceiling, and furniture. And it better all be just mud."

Eliot stands there with his little arms crossed and nods, unfazed by the long list of duties and responsibilities. "Yeah, I can do that."

Bandit barks in agreement. His tail whips up a spotty storm.

Lindsey pants, catching his breath after his lengthy litany. He tosses his hair back out of his face. "Right. In that case, I'll be in my room while _you_ clean up."

Eliot and the dog hold their breaths as Lindsey stalks to his room. At the door, Lindsey stops, gapes, and pivots.

"You let that _thing_ into my room?" he shouts.

Eliot winces, and says, "Sorry?"

Bandit whines, looking at the soiled carpet guiltily. A red tongue flicks out and licks a quivering muzzle.

Lindsey sighs and heads to the kitchen. "Fine," he huffs. "Clean it up. I'll be right here, watching."

He sets a toppled chair upright and throws himself into it with a glare at Eliot and Bandit. There's a loud splintering sound that makes the three individuals in the apartment freeze, and then Lindsey's sitting on the tiled floor amidst shattered chair fragments with an angry scowl on his face.

"Eliot…"

"You broke the chair," Eliot cuts in, "You're the one who sat on it."

Lindsey sputters incoherently, turning quite an impressive shade of purple in the process.

Seeing Shouts-A-Lot-But-Smells-Like-Master in distress, Bandit bounds over and licks his face worriedly.

"Eliot," Lindsey says calmly (tamping his anger down to use later, probably) between swipes of doggy kisses, "I'm gonna kill you. After you clean this mess up. I'm gonna kill you. With a corkscrew. And possibly an ice cream scoop." His nostrils flare. "And then you're going to pull the splinters out of my ass."

* * *

AN: There's an extended scene to this, but I thought it sort of made the story too...well, it's something that wasn't originally included in my plans, and it makes it a little more goofy than I want it to be. Not that this is a _serious_ story...Should I post it?


	2. Extended Scene

AN: This story was supposed to end where the last chapter ended, but then Brucie, my _adorable_ *snerk* plot bunny, decided to chew on my ankles a little bit more. Thus, this extended scene. was born. If you liked the original story just exactly the way it is, then obviously, I don't want you to read this part. If you want a little more, and you're okay with it being a little over-exaggerated, then by all means, keep reading.

* * *

**Extended scene**

**. . .  
**

"_Eliot," Lindsey says calmly (tamping his anger down to use later, probably) between swipes of doggy kisses, "I'm gonna kill you. After you clean this mess up. I'm gonna kill you. With a corkscrew. And possibly an ice cream scoop." His nostrils flare. "And then you're going to pull the splinters out of my ass."_

_. . .  
_

"Okay," Eliot says. Then he adds with a touch of remorse, "Want me to get the splinters first?"

Lindsey shifts uncomfortably in his seat on top of the pieces of the fractured chair. "Yes."

At that, Bandit stops licking Smells-Like-Master and fetches the first aid kit out of the cabinet under the sink in the bathroom, tail wagging all the way.

"Good boy!" Eliot exclaims upon his return, and pats the dog's head and broad back. "Who's a smart boy? You are! Good boy, Bandit!"

Bandit barks joyfully.

"Good boy!"

"_Arf-arf!"_ The spotted tail goes like a windmill.

All but forgotten, and with a sore, _throbbing_ ass, Lindsey groans and fights back the tears. His life sucks so bad. So, _so_ bad. He's being punished for his sins. He knows he is. This is hell. Hell is babysitting a de-aged big brother with a pet dog. A big, black-and-white spotted, _muddy_ abomination.

He sighs again and gives up trying not to cry. Unfortunately, his bout of tears is interrupted by a big red tongue lapping up the salty trails.

"Go away! Leave me alone," he says, and pushes the muzzle away.

Eliot huffs. "Oh, you big drama queen. Drop your pants and go lie down on the couch." He holds up the tweezers and clicks them.

"There's mud on the couch," Lindsey protests.

"Linny!"

"Fine," Lindsey sighs and acquiesces. "You're still cleaning up."

"Okay! Just shut up already!"

Lindsey sniffles into a muddy sofa cushion. A tissue is waved in front of his nose.

"You're gettin' snot all over the furniture."

Lindsey's face thuds back into the cushion. His life sucks. A lot.

"Want pie later?"

"Mm-hm."

"What kind y'want?"

_Shrug._

"Stop sulking and pick something." Eliot punctuates his order by tugging out a particularly large splinter.

"Ow! You sadist! Apple."

"You got it." _Pause._ And then "Can I really keep him?"

Lindsey sighs. The way he's lying belly-down on the couch puts him at eye level with Bandit. He looks into the dog's big chocolate-brown eyes _(love me forever and ever and ever and I will be loyal and love you forever and ever and ever)_ and sighs again.

"Yeah. We can keep him."

Bandit kisses his nose.

Ew. Now he has dog slobber up his nose. This _is_ hell.


End file.
